


Continuity

by Likho



Series: Spectral Extrema [4]
Category: Ai no Kusabi
Genre: Don't Have to Know Canon, Filler, Gen, Gun Fight, Minor Canonical Character(s), Non-Graphic Violence, Post-Canon, Side Story, minor character development
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:01:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23197519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Likho/pseuds/Likho
Summary: An explosion decimates a district of the city Midas, and culpability befalls the reigning lord.
Series: Spectral Extrema [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1353658
Kudos: 7
Collections: /fanfic/ Collected Works





	1. Shroud

**Author's Note:**

> Based on an outline I typed up after finishing AnK, but did not finish since I couldn't write fight scenes well at the time.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raoul re-opens investigations surrounding Harvey.  
> General introduction for readers outside of the fandom.

The disaster was unanticipated.

In the distance, not far from the large bunker from the old rebellion, a dome of light expanded. Not the rising star, but an explosion that disturbed dust and debris into a sandstorm below. The late night was lit as bright as day until the persisting lights faded and vanished. While reactive shielding saved most of Midas, the district Harvey was reduced to ashes.

High in the palace tower and distant from the storm, Raoul stared in disbelief. He shattered his glass of wine. Not a night of many in his ageless years to pass without significance. In that moment, he knew his friend, Iason, was gone for the rest of eternity, when one second had the weight of uncountable years to come.

Time passed.

Seated at the heart of all information networks on the planet, Raoul closed his eyes. All senses were muted to the neural connection. His mental power dedicated to the expanded conscious experience. Like neurons of a brain, compressed and encrypted data flowed node to node in the digital void. One pulse headed out to later return.

With oversight over all communication networks, among the many parallel threads, he intercepted footage of his colleagues of varying ranks as viewed from surveillance. Within high society, long hair was the norm. Role and responsibility then designated coloration.

At an office, a man with platinum white hair, complete with an artificial metallic sheen, briefed another man with verdant hair as vivid as chlorophyl. They conversed with an exchange of electronic documents. Afterwards, at a different office, the latter referenced documents as he advised another with black hair.

At an aerocar hangar, a short-haired brunet, wearing reflective data visors but the clothes of a civilian, was on his way from the lot to the elevators. After flipping his short bangs, his head of hair extended back to blond through the iconic nanomachine driven change. When he took off his data visors, Raoul recognized him as Silbert, coming home after whatever business he had undercover.

On the upper floors of an atmospheric tower, two blonds donned the elegant, simple raiments, fitting their high rank and divine favor. Gideon and Aisha, who were ordinarily seen with one another, were speaking.

"Aisha, please." Gideon pleaded. "You know I had no part in the explosion. I've submitted myself to all internal investigations, and my record remains clean."

"That may be, but what information we have remains inconclusive."

Gideon sighed in admission as Aisha left.

Ordinarily genial, Gideon, the Lord of Midas, hadn't much to smile to since Harvey's incident. When the city of Tanagura was alerted to its urban satellite's damage, all eyes were on him.

Raoul breathed out and opened his eyes. The perceptions of the digital collective consciousness faded away. His eyes focused as real vision was no longer supplanted by the digital, and ambient hums from computing systems filled his ears. As though he were reimmersed from empty space, he felt air fill his lungs.

Raoul held his head, "I'm still not used to this."

Taking Iason's place as Chief of Information and Head of Syndicate was a trade of passion for obligation. The latter is his place as second-in-command, and the former, no one but him should ever hold. Not for now. He walked to his office and sat at a conventional terminal system.

"You called? Lord Am," a short-haired agent who was neither ranked elite or civilian, entered the office.

Raoul set forth a data slate. "Katze, I'm re-opening investigations surrounding Harvey and delegating a portion to you."

Katze picked up the slate for a glance. On it was the dossier and classified documents, the situations surrounding Harvey including his own recount. "The culprit behind the attack is dead as I've sworn. What remains unsatisfactory within Tanagura?"

"I have reason to believe the Lord of Midas will involve himself once internal audits have concluded."

"Lord Gideon Lagat." Katze withheld his unease, only so to have his eyes jitter on the thought. "What shall I do on my end?"

"Acquaint yourself with him. See to it that his conclusions do not damage Iason's legacy."

"Understood, my lord," Katze set the slate down.

After Katze left, Raoul sat back and sighed. He looked forward to the day he could resign his term as Chief of Information, and truly return to his laboratory.


	2. The Lord of Midas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Orpheus asks a favor from Gideon.  
> Extended introduction.

Eos stood as the monument to the planet's architectural achievements. The atmospheric tower pierced the skies and oversaw the world, from civilization to the barren frontiers. At the top, Apex Level, was the residential section reserved for the thirteen who were in the divine's graces. Jupiter, Her origins were not of nature, but of the mind. Her medium was digital. As the most sophisticated artificial intelligence, She saw Herself beyond human and Her place, the planetary overlord.

For thirteen of Her creations, She allocated authority over the planet--- Lord of Midas, Lord of Tanagura, Overseer of Eos, and Chief of Information among many more. Her favored son, Iason, was struck down by tragedy and then reborn, quelling any trace of a power vacuum.

"Cherished childhood," Orpheus, the Overseer of Eos, held a small blond boy in his arms. "Never forget yours, Icarus."

When Gideon was not in his city, he was in Eos. Before the reinforced glass panes in Eos, in filtered daylight emboldening towards noon, he accompanied Orpheus and Icarus.

"He's been reverted to an infant," Gideon shook his head. "It's my fault."

The child was more than a year old and likely capable of speech, but seeing Iason regressed to a child didn't afford anything more than an underestimation.

"The dour attitude ill suits you Gideon," Orpheus sympathized, "but I mean to request a favor from you."

"And that is?"

"I leave the planet as Ambassador soon, so I offer to leave him in your care."

"Another of your jokes at my expense?"

"No," Orpheus remained to the point. "And you need this. I figure this small favor will help you retain Jupiter's good graces, whatever of it you have left."

"I will then."

"You have my thanks." Orpheus smiled as he set Icarus down.

"Bye, Orphe," Icarus waved Orpheus goodbye as the latter left. He turned to face Gideon. "Hello, Gidie."

The small child couldn't have been past knee height or barely was. The boy almost had to look directly up in order to make eye contact with who he considered his older brother.

"Gideon," he corrected the child.

The boy didn't respond.

"Tis my name. Gideon," he sternly emphasized each syllable. "Is that understood?"

Intimidated silent, the boy nodded.

Gideon relented and sighed. No other child in Eos, but Icarus, and the young boy was born a few years ago. Unlike an android that was manufactuered and preloaded with common data, the child's mind was still forming. No concept of formalities, and hardly any fault on a budding mind's behalf.

"Midas is my city," Gideon said with kinder words, "Is there somewhere you'd like to go?"

Icarus gestured to be carried, hopping in place with his short arms stretched out. It was less about being able to see from the panorama windows, that spanned floor to ceiling, and more about being held. Gideon obliged.

The boy pointed to a prominent building that stood out like a stake upon the heart of Midas. A straight lane of aerocar traffic connected it and Eos like the bottle's neck to either Tanagura or Midas. The beautiful prism that reflected the sky was the condominium named Apatia.

"No," Gideon declined.

The boy then pointed to one of the many distinct patches of land that represented a district. Not the zone that neighbored the frontiers, but further in. Compared to the condominium, the buildings were modest and much smaller. Innocent choice; but it was the red light district, where business and pleasure were one and the company of men or women were available to those who could afford it.

"No."

The boy then pointed to a large building closer to the frontiers that was wider than it was tall, a convention center in the district Mistral. At the current time lot, slave auctions took place.

Gideon placed his fingers on his forehead and sighed, "No."

Icarus briefly clutched the collar of Gideon's raiment; the childish, blue eyes watered in dismay. The boy then tried again and pointed to a patch of green that was an oasis in the desert of concrete. Midas' Arboreteum was an artificially supported forest that depended on automated systems.

"That I can do," Gideon accepted.

* * *

Compared to the tourist attractions in Midas, the Arboreteum hardly had any activity. Despite the planet's booming economy and galactic reputation that elevated a mere visa to a status symbol, its natural reserves were subpar. Amoi, the barren planet on the fringe of the galaxy was formerly an ignored wasteland that no empire or pirate paid mind until recent history.

What little flora and fauna that lived on Amoi were imported from planets that either harbored natural life or were terraformed to do so. No one came for a nature walk, but the Arboreteum remained as a crucial long-term investment for a future self-sustaining planetary ecosystem.

It wasn't any surprise that a garden was exotic to the young child that had only seen city and wastelands from Eos. No master at walking, much less running, the boy eagerly moved himself forward in what could be credited as a jog. Warm starlight, fresh air, and green grass--- the simple joys of existence were enough for the boy to giggle.

Just above the child's head a butterfly flew in carefree, roundabout paths. So close, but still out of reach, Icarus tried to catch the insect. As though the latter teased the child, it bobbed up and down in the air as it flapped its wings.

Gideon stood revolted at what's become of the underworld's Iceman. The cold-hearted lord and colleague Gideon known Iason to be was now a insouciant child.

"One of Iason's data visors..." Gideon rationalized to himself. Iason had one pair with bottom rims resembling the hindwings of a swallowtail.

Gideon turned away to save himself from the sight. He had to supervise, but as long as Icarus was giggling, he could assume the child was safely playing.

After a faint _thud_ to the ground, the boy cried. Gideon jolted.

Icarus tripped on an exposed tree root and fell. On the ground, on all fours, he sobbed to noninjury and trivial pain.

Gideon could barely contain his anger.

Back in Eos, Silbert strolled Apex Lobby towards the elevators. One of the doors opened to an unusual sight. Standing, Icarus wiped away his own tears with one hand. The other hand clutched the tips of Gideon's fingers. Gideon wore an apathetic if not unsympathetic expression on his face.

"Gideon," Silbert was already estimating the situation, "What did you get yourself into this time?"

"He fell."

Without a word, Icarus scurried home.


	3. Black Market

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katze acquaints with Gideon.
> 
> For those who aren't familiar with the source material, the medical services aren't a reference to Katze's scar.

In the evening, Katze got out of his car and stood before a skyscraper. At the top was a lit torus where influential civilians mingled with high society. Bright, warm lights amid the dark sky cast no doubt that the fortunate members of society were enjoying a party. But Area-1 of Midas was the district closest to Tanagura. The colossal tower Eos could be seen looming foremost behind the cloudy sky.

 _The Lord of Midas, Gideon Lagat._ Katze sighed. He long hoped the issue of Harvey had been settled.

Common knowledge stated that Tanagura Blondies were a class of androids with mean streaks wider than any devil's, but the upper echelons of society knew they were cyborgs. Ruthlessness hid behind a charming face. Through Iason and Raoul, Katze was well aware, but he never made his acquaintance with the full roster.

Perhaps the Lord of Midas was much like his city. The entertainment sector of the white market was in perpetual boom. Smiling faces crowded the streets. The inner city made no distinction between night and day. Across the galaxy, Amoian natives were represented by the citizens of Midas and well-known to be wealthy funseekers that disliked to be bored.

Katze steeled himself and entered the building.

* * *

Icarus, held in Gideon's arms, looked over the latter's shoulders. Never seeing much of the ordinary populace before, he stared at the crowds of people. The smiling faces of the civilians were unlike that of his brothers. The upper classman's complexion was weathered down by time and creased with wrinkles while the upper classwoman did the best she could to conceal hers.

Icarus blinked. None of his brothers had crow's feet or laugh lines. As Gideon walked and neared a reflective surface, Icarus pressed his cheek on Gideon's shoulder and stared into his reflection; his cheek squished and made a faint line on his face.

Gideon stopped to set Icarus down by a booth nearby an aquarium. "Wait here."

Icarus nodded as Gideon left. Idle, Icarus kicked his legs, too short to reach the floor from the seat. It wasn't long before he wondered where Gideon went. He looked at the aquarium and saw himself; then the school of striped fish, in exotic shapes, swimming among the algae covered rocks; then through the tank itself.

Gideon stood with a man, short-haired like the civilians, who didn't seem as aged as the other attendants in the party. They were far isolated from main section of the party, far enough for varied murmurs to drown out their conversation. Nonetheless, they held glasses of wine in their hands. The scar on the man's cheek and his dark clothing made Icarus duck behind the aquarium rocks.

"Katze, is it?" Gideon welcomed. The voice of a gracious lord in a good mood was enough to defuse anyone's apprehension. "The one who compromised Eos' security oh-so long ago. The scar you keep is an odd devotion. I thought you would rid yourself of such a mark by now."

"My loyalty to Tanagura remains," Katze upheld his usual demeanor, not unlike that of the androids, "I work under the incumbent Chief of Information."

"Do you have business from that office?"

"Lord Am would like to extend his assistance regarding Harvey."

Katze could already tell by saying "Harvey", he soured Gideon's mood.

"Ah, yes." Gideon paused and swiveled the wine in his glass. "I suppose you two have reason to be interested in _that_ matter. These days, I have more evidence than I need to contest any implications of negligence on my part and of those I entrust with power.

"Just remember," Gideon glared. "I've willingly turned a blind eye to your dreadful business operations within Midas and have plenty of reasons to intervene should it inconvenience me and public well-being."

Without more words, Gideon took his leave.

Icarus' head tracked his returning brother, "Who's that?"

"Not someone you have any business with yet," Gideon picked Icarus up and distanced himself from where he left Katze.

Katze breathed out. _Not as bad as it could've gone._

"Katze! Black market broker!" a partygoer greeted. "In good health, ya?"

Katze winced at the last remark and shot a glance at the section Gideon was at. Distant, but Katze didn't trust the open air. He had little reason to believe Gideon's augmented hearing was deaf to the range. Something could go very wrong if the loud partygoer, who may have had too much for the night, continued with the conversation.

Gideon stood in the company of influential citizens--- corporate executives, scions of old bloodlines, and office holders. Extravagant fashion mingled with modest professionalism, and well-fed lifestyles maintained their condition despite their high-stress. But among the aged, Gideon was the young man with an energetic smile, and his youth hid more years than a lifetime.

"Lord Lagat," an old man chuckled. "It appears to be getting late for your boy."

He pointed to Icarus sitting by himself at a booth. The drowsy child rubbed one eye while the other was half-lidded.

"Excuse us," Gideon left and walked over to Icarus. "Tired already? It's a shame; the night's still young."

When Gideon picked Icarus up, the latter closed both eyes.

Katze saw Gideon leaving the party.

* * *

Outside in a nearby dark alley, Katze pulled the partygoer and shoved him onto the wall.

"Who are you?" Katze interrogated,

"Black dealings are open secrets, no?" the man's composure didn't waiver but the force squelched his voice. "We've seen money of no small amount move into medical services."

"You must be a cat who was never meant to be top dog."

Katze took out his concealed weapon, a laser pistol, pointing it just above the man's head. Katze kept his fingers off the trigger. "I won't hesitate to shoot."

"I sit on a deadman's switch, Katze. We all know you're a two-trick pony. Not offering much beyond drugs and slaves. You've nothing for those of us that need holes punched and heads to roll."

Katze narrowed his eyes, released the man, and turned his back. After getting back up, the partygoer dusted himself off and left with a glare.

Cigarette in mouth, Katze's hand curled around the flame from his lighter. Breathing in and breaking out smoke, he sighed. _That's someone I have to find a way to kill. Some day._


	4. Blaze

The days that passed didn't change for the man who killed his lover. Another day, another setting star. Having nothing, not even the company of his old comrades, he was living past the time he planned for himself. In his youth, he'd think he was wasting what chance and time he had. He didn't age much since, and his ponytail remained the same length. But he was at the point where time was wearing him down.

The slums suffocated the soul of any man. A shadow of his former self, he looked at the half-empty bottle of branded stout. The curvature of the thick glass distorted his faint reflection. He held the bottle with his prosthetic hand. As he slid his thumb down the bottle's neck, the emulated nerves sent an unnatural sensation through the core of the arm to the stump at his shoulder.

Katze walked in.

"Katze," the other man sighed. "The new face, the new arm. I know I owe you and you ain't loansharking. I don't got your money. Not now."

"That's not what I'm here for, Guy," Katze said. "I need to know who sold you the explosives."

"Who's askin' here? You know I'm not a snitch."

"I'm asking. It's your confidentiality that's at stake."

"Getting myself into more trouble than I bargained for again, am I," Guy sighed, "The guy goes by Berne. Takes only cash and cash cards. Opened up shop around the wrong corners of Midas, but rumor around the slums has it that he's expanded since."

"Come with with me," Katze yanked Guy up, "I need you for this."

* * *

Between the fringe and the inner city was a difference as clear as day and night. The inner city glowed with light as music leaked from the buildings to the streets. The fringe was hollowed out as buildings were condemned.

Ceres was the autonomous sector populated by lowlifes descended from the rebels of the past. With no hallmarks or achievements since, the massive bunker near the frontiers was their icon of past independence efforts. Now destroyed, Midas was damaged in the process. The real cause and story behind why, only Guy and Katze knew.

Also known as the slums, Ceres was already seen as the cancer of the world. The disgusted citizens of Midas distanced themselves from the border. Shops closed. People moved towards the inner city. Public officials scheduled abandoned buildings for demolition. The collective will of Midas wanted and risked no contact with another bad accident waiting to happen.

Guy pointed. Near the border, one building--- wide like a warehouse--- still harbored light.

"That one," Guy said. "No one's got a clue if he's hot shit or full of shit. Not a word on who his supplier is either, but he's got what someone wants at a high price and no competitors."

Katze loaded his pistol and holstered it beneath his overcoat.

"Here, you might need this," he passed a spare to Guy. "I go in then you go in. Don't go loud if you don't have to. Meet back here by midnight."

Guy watched as Katze made a run towards the warehouse and vaulted over a wall of rubble.

_Some real shit I've gotten myself into._

Guy wasn't a special agent or a trained infiltrator. Not a diamond in the rough, just coal. He thought of himself as an ordinary nobody who met extraordinary somebodies by a whimsy of fate, and through them, pulled off a stunt no one would admit to. He crawled in a wide-enough vent. Make haste across the slitted tiles, avoid bumping the metallic walls, that much he knew.

The warehouse wasn't big like the others in Midas, big enough to fit a small aerospace plane or two, but not a candle to any of Midas' white market corporations. To no surprise, it was largely unstaffed beyond cameras, turrets, and the arms dealer himself.

Guy knew why. Real trust was like gold, but as rare as diamonds. Just one snitch was all it took for Midas to send its militarized police down anywhere and any place. Scuffing collars and kicking doors, if they had to find someone on their shitlist, they stopped at nothing or no one. But Katze didn't seem to be calling any favors from them. Not this time.

Katze peered around a corner. A messy makeshift office in a subdepot with one man sitting and no one else.

"Your operation's finished," Katze stepped forth with a pistol readied. "Come quietly and I won't shoot."

"Right, right. I know you; everyone does." the arms dealer stood tall with hands in the air. "Finally had enough of me hustling in your share of the market. Is that what it is?"

"Not quite," Katze kept the gun trained on Berne. "This isn't about business."

"You telling me Subzero Scarface here is playing hero. That's a good idea of a bad joke."

In a few steps towards coming into view, he kicked a live grenade towards Katze.

Katze lunged out the way and ran into cover behind the warehouse shelves stocked with cargo. Segmented rows and aisles like anyone could pop in and out of line of sight any time. When the third tick of the digital grenade beeped, the blast came with blinding light and a loud boom. Force flung Katze forward and disturbed the heavy metal crates on the upper shelves.

He heard the arms dealer running off and upstairs. Knowing it only led to the catwalk in plain view, Katze moved to intercept with his pistol ready.

 _Shit, this already is getting bad._ High ground and broad field of view, the arms dealer was strapped with long rifles and surplus magazines.

Berne laughed. "You just brought a pistol to a rifle fight."

He fired as Katze ran back into cover.

Mechanical sputter. Rapid booms. Bullets in a wide spread zipped by, dented metal, poked holes in the concrete floors. Katze ran and hid behind a shelved crate, waiting for the magazine to empty.

 _He's not getting these weapons onworld, that much I can tell._ No matter the faint planetary pride he felt in Amoian technology and how it surpassed that of the offworld, there was no way his handgun would match the fire rate and range of a rifle.

"Katze, you pussy, come out," Berne tossed the rifle aside.

Katze peeked the corner and recognized. _Is this idiot insane?_

The arms dealer unholstered a grenade launcher. He loaded the round and aimed at a good guess of where Katze was and fired.

The blast toppled heavy shelves stocked with metallic crates. The cargo caught in the direct hit sported blackened torn metal and the heavy scent of ash. Katze laid under a pile of metal plating. Mostly safe, but debris knicked a deep gash into his arm.

"Selling kiddie slaves and drugs, but none of the fuckin' good stuff." Berne loaded another grenade for the finishing blow, "Burn in hell, Katze. Everyone knows you're workin' for the gov'."

Guy kicked open a vent from above. As he lowered himself, he swung both of his legs at Berne.

Katze got up and clutched his wound. Seeing Berne distracted, he made his way to the closest terminal.

Guy dodged a punch. Quick enough that not even the fist touched his lagging ponytail, he countered with one punch with his natural fist to the kidney, then another punch with his prosthetic fist to the face.

"Punk," Berne shouted, "who the fuck are you!"

Just as, the ceiling conveyor arms dropped heavy crates of cargo. Both Guy and Berne scrambled out of the way.

The metal crates made loud crashes upon the floor and busted open. Loud enough to shake the rapidly cooling air. Among rifles, ammunition, and spare parts, vacant cold sleep chambers leaked freezing agent to a dense haze in the air.

"I've had enough of this shit," Berne tread carefully with a rifle.

Just as he chambered a round, the click of the gun gave him away. Katze barged out of the mist, shoved Berne into an open cold sleep chamber, and shut the pane. With all his bodyweight and might he held the pane closed as Berne pounded. Then Guy supplemented.

The cold sleep chamber took a while. Its systems detecting an occupant, it started to internally release the paralytic and freezing agent. Berne was done for.

Katze breathed out.

Guy panted, "What's going to happen to him?"

"That much I won't say. Neither of us want anyone to connect two dots regarding the Harvey Incident."

"You did this for me?" Guy smiled.

Katze placed his hand on Guy's shoulder. The former's faint smile was the widest anyone would expect of Subzero Scarface. Guy knew, beyond his lost arm, Katze wouldn't mend, but having someone look out for him was a feeling he hasn't had for years. That came to an abrupt end as Katze shoved Guy into a cold sleep chamber.

"Katze? Katze! Wait!" Guy pounded the reinforced glass lid. The chamber gasses flooded the limited space, and his world went dim.

"I'm sorry, Guy. But I don't trust you to lay as low as I need you to. I'll compensate for the lost time."

His job done, Katze fell to the floor and caught his breath. He pushed his sleeve back to a wristphone and opened a communications link to one of his employees.

"Yes, boss?"

"Zach, I need cold sleep chambers moved from my coordinates."

"Understood, sir."

Katze stood by himself in at the warehouse. Illicit firearms in varying condition littered the floor.

_Now what am I going to do with these guns?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2020/04/04: Minor edit. A little more emphasis on the prosthetic arm to help bridge the ending scene of Chapter 3 and the beginning scene of Chapter 4.


	5. Bootleg

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katze's plans and changes for the future.

The military android stood at the firing range with an illicit firearm in hand. He fired to empty the magazine. When any human's arm would have shaken and jolted from kickback and recoil, the android's arm remained still. Full automatic fire, aiming by the hip, and normal standing posture, the android shredded the practice target at the head.

Silbert stood in the company of Gideon and Raoul from the observatory.

"Is it any surprise?" Silbert walked to the table with a disassembled sample and inspected a component. The foreign, antiquated design reflected the use of "traditional" projectiles. "None of these weapons conform to our military standards. They're better off consigned to the police departments in Midas."

"If you aren't joking," Gideon said, "they won't have any use for these either.

"An offworld arms smuggling operation, however, I hadn't expected things to take a turn in this direction."

"Not even the most ignorant Cererian with half of an idea of his own history would think about another Federation-sponsored insurrection. If you still believe these motives are beyond petty profit seeking, I can investigate the matter further."

Silbert dismissed himself.

"Well? What do these developments mean for you?" Raoul asked.

"If only I knew exactly what Jupiter has in mind. As far as I can tell, I no longer have the threat of retribution bearing down." Gideon smiled, "I have you among others to thank.

"But considering your idea of a good time is mucking about in your laboratory, it's a shame Midas has little to offer you.

"Any favor you ask, Raoul, and I'll see to it."

Raoul held his chin in thought. "I do have an idea."

Meanwhile in Ceres, Katze stood in Guy's hideout. He packed things to keep safe just in case the vicinity eventually caught the attention of squatters and looters. The average slum mongrel didn't have much to his name, but what little he had meant a lot. Among memory sticks and outdated electronics, Katze came across a half-full bottle of branded stout.

Katze closed his eyes and remembered one of Guy's drunken nights where the latter confided his sorrows. One night, years ago, Riki stumbled into the garage holding the bottle; before he disappeared, he gave it to Guy as a gift.

_He's had this for a while, but never finished it._

Katze's wristphone received an incoming call from Raoul. "Lord Am, what is it?"

"I have approval from Gideon to consign the firearms to you."

"And what of the arms ban?"

"Serve the market only to the extent you can identify the clientele, but don't become a major distributor. You're authorized only to the extent you keep law enforcement and the general public out of the matter. You can find Gideon's exact stipulations in the file I sent."

"Understood, and Lord Am?"

"Yes?"

"I'd like to reserve a lab station to analyze a compound," Katze glanced at the bottle of stout, but kept it out of his wristphone's view.

"Fine by me."

After the conversation terminated, Katze packed the bottle. _When you wake up Guy, I'll see to it that you don't half-ass what life you still have._

Katze locked the hideout as he left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The events in this story lead up to [The Prologue of Two Opposites](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18715999).  
> As always, I love to read comments, what readers think, what details they pick up, or what details are lacking since the fandom isn't one I have much contact with. For the most part, I'm happy with how an ignored outline finally got a fleshed out story, but I'm all ears to criticism as well.


End file.
